


Not a damsel in distress (but you can rescue me anytime)

by AwkwardTiming



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (But for a good reason), (and Sherlock doesn't mind), Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Boys Kissing, Explicit Consent, Friends to more, Frottage, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, except for that first kiss (oops), handjobs, other characters mentioned only in passing, safe sex, teen!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 02:51:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6836029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardTiming/pseuds/AwkwardTiming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock was only at the party to find out why Seb had broken up with him.</p><p>John only followed Sherlock upstairs because he had a bad feeling about the whole thing.<br/>---<br/>Without conscious thought, John moved forward as Sherlock’s shoulder’s dropped in resignation. He stepped in between Sherlock and Seb, his back to Seb and looked up at Sherlock’s surprised face. He gave a smile that he hoped conveyed go with it, said, just loudly enough to be heard, “So you’re single, then?” and slid one hand around Sherlock’s neck.  When Sherlock relaxed into it, John backed him up to the wall and proceeded to kiss him with the thoroughness of a surgeon preparing for a procedure.</p><p>For the first few seconds, Sherlock was stiff, still, but unresisting and John had a brief panic that this unconsidered plan was the absolute worst thing he could have done. But then Sherlock was kissing him back, his hands clenching at John’s hips, tugging him closer. John nipped at his lower lip and Sherlock gasped and opened his mouth.<br/>---</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The story is, essentially, finished. The E rating is earned in chapter 3 (or possibly 2, depending on where I decide to cut the next chapter). I'll be posting a chapter a day until it's all up.
> 
> I think it's going to end up around 4 or 5 chapters. If more than 4, I may end up posting multiple chapters on a single day.

Sherlock looked up at the house and checked the message he’d received again. If you want an explanation, come to Mike’s tonight around 9. Why Seb thought it necessary to provide said explanation in the middle of a house party, Sherlock could only guess. Not that it really took that much to guess at why there. Sherlock hated parties. He assumed, likewise, that that was a good part of the reason Seb had broken off their – what was the word he’d used? – association. Hateful. Utterly, utterly hateful.

And yet, here he stood. He may not want to be at the party, but he did want the actual explanation. He’d thought things were progressing as expected. He’d done careful research. He had estimated at least another week or two before their physical relationship progressed. What they had tried had fallen well within the expected parameters. 

But two days ago, with no warning whatsoever, Sherlock had received a text that said we’re done followed by the second text, offering an explanation in exchange for Sherlock’s attendance at this… fête.

Sherlock sighed and made his way to the front door. 

John nudged Mike as Sherlock walked in. “I thought he hated these things,” John said with a frown. He and Sherlock had been paired the year before for a chem lab and while they weren’t particular friends, he knew the younger man didn’t have the easiest time of things. Too clever. And too unguarded in what he said when he spoke.

Mike looked in the direction John indicated. “He does. Must be here for Seb.” Mike had known Sherlock a bit longer – something about family friends. John could never quite get the story straight. “Be back.” Mike had caught sight of his current crush – Lisa or Laura or something – and made a beeline, leaving John leaning up against the counter, frown still in place.

The thing was, John was pretty sure he’d seen Seb head upstairs with someone not long ago.

John watched as Sherlock checked his phone, visibly pull himself straighter, and look up the stairs. It took only a split second before John made the decision to follow, a feeling in his gut that something unpleasant was about to happen and he wanted to be on hand to – do something he wasn’t quite sure how to explain. Help? He’d stay well back just in case he was wrong. Close enough though. In case. He liked the strange genius. He’d been a surprisingly amusing lab partner and had helped John pass the class with a far better grade than he likely deserved.

He could tell the exact moment when Sherlock caught sight of Seb, making out with Maxie. To the casual observer, the pair looked utterly unaware of their surroundings, but John could tell – and quite likely so could Sherlock – that this was an act on Seb’s part. He was clearly aware of the arrival of Sherlock.

With a studied, slow movement of his head, Seb pulled his head away, letting Maxie – gullible, stupid Maxie – tuck his head under Seb’s chin to kiss his neck. Seb opened his eyes and met Sherlock’s startled, disbelieving gaze.

“Sherlock.”

“Seb.” 

John was impressed that Sherlock’s voice stayed relatively level. If he suspected that was force of will rather than actual indifference, well, that made it no less impressive, really.

Sherlock felt his hands clench once, twice, at his sides. He wanted to run. He forced himself to ask, “So. You promised an explanation.”

“So I did,” was Seb’s smug reply, as he cupped the back of Maxie’s head, encouraging the other boy to continue.

“And?” Sherlock drew in a careful, calming breath. Important not to seem like this bothered him. He would listen and then he would make his way back downstairs and away from this godforsaken place. Never. Again. He promised himself.

“Yeah, you’re pretty and I really thought I could work with that, but – oh that is lovely –” the moan Seb gave was calculated. It was a toss-up whether Maxie realized he had an audience. He seemed very intent on what he was doing and utterly oblivious. Likely also unbelievably high. “But you are such a cold fish. I was going to wait until we’d taken care of that whole virginity thing, but really. You’re probably the sort to just lay back and think of England, hm? Hardly surprising you’ve made it this far with it.”

Without conscious thought, John moved forward as Sherlock’s shoulder’s dropped in resignation. He stepped in between Sherlock and Seb, his back to Seb and looked up at Sherlock’s surprised face. He gave a smile that he hoped conveyed go with it, said, just loudly enough to be heard, “So you’re single, then?” and slid one hand around Sherlock’s neck. When Sherlock relaxed into it, John backed him up to the wall and proceeded to kiss him with the thoroughness of a surgeon preparing for a procedure.

For the first few seconds, Sherlock was stiff, still, but unresisting and John had a brief panic that this unconsidered plan was the absolute worst thing he could have done. But then Sherlock was kissing him back, his hands clenching at John’s hips, tugging him closer. John nipped at his lower lip and Sherlock gasped and opened his mouth.

John had kissed plenty of girls, but this was a first. It was different, in a way, but not unpleasant. Good, really. Very good, he thought as he rocked his hips forward, feeling as though a match had been lit and was rapidly burning its way toward the tips of his fingers. He shifted his free hand down to cup Sherlock’s ass, pulling them infinitesimally closer and smiled as he felt Sherlock’s answering groan.

Sherlock let his head drop back to the wall, surfacing for much needed air. John responded by pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw and nipping lightly at his neck. Sherlock tilted his head down and rested his forehead on John’s. They were both panting.

Slowly, Sherlock became aware that the hallway had grown very quiet. He closed his eyes and felt John press a quick, light kiss to his lips. He wasn’t quite sure what all this was about, but he was sure that when he had time to catalogue the differences between this and anything he’d done with Seb, he’d have more information than he’d really expected out of tonight.

It had been extraordinarily better. Better than anything. Ever, really.

John turned his head. “You don’t mind if I keep him company, right?” John said. Sherlock’s mind took a moment to parse together that John was addressing Seb. “He’s far too hot to be alone in this hallway and you seem occupied.” With that John slid his hand down Sherlock’s arm, entwined their fingers, and tugged Sherlock along after him, down the stairs, and outside, where he lead them to a quiet spot in the shadows of the lawn.

By the time they stopped, Sherlock’s breathing had levelled out. His phone had been buzzing in his pocket since John had tugged him away. He decided to ignore it for the time being. Sherlock sat on the ground, his back against a bench, knees up. He looked up to where John still stood. “Thank you. That was –” unnecessary? illuminating? wonderful? “Why?”

John frowned. “Why?” He had a feeling he knew what Sherlock was asking, why did you do that? but John needed time to sort out an answer. He wasn’t quite sure why, but parroting the question would buy him time.

“Why did you kiss me? Get involved? I mean – you – you’re not gay. As far as anything I’ve heard, you’re not bi either. Somewhat relentless in your pursuit of girls, though I’ve never heard that you’re a slag exactly. Despite having been lab partners, it’s unlikely you consider me a friend.”

John huffed out a laugh. Yeah, that would be exactly what he didn’t know the answer to. Why had he gotten involved? Mostly because Sherlock needed help and John liked him. Sherlock was funny when he didn’t mean to be and, despite his acerbic nature, incredibly helpful. Was John bi? Maybe. He certainly wanted to kiss Sherlock again. He let the idea percolate for a moment as he slid down to sit next to Sherlock. He would be interested in doing more with Sherlock, too, actually. Did that make him gay? No. No, he still liked women, he confirmed as he contemplated Jennie’s rather lovely breasts. On the other hand, looking at Sherlock, he definitely liked that too. At the very least, was very interested in figuring out how much he liked that.

John bit his lower lip and stared back toward the house, listening to the muffled noises of a party still in progress.

Sherlock shifted uneasily and let his head fall back to the bench. Why hadn’t he just left it at thank you? It didn’t really matter why John had done it or that it had been mostly unnecessary. Certainly this would let him save a bit of face, but he didn’t care overmuch what other people thought of him. Sherlock sighed. “Never mind. It’s not – never mind.”

John turned his head and looked at Sherlock, then offered a small smile. “Honestly, I don’t know why I did that.” Sherlock stiffened. “No, I mean. I just sort of wanted to. Seb’s a dick and you looked, I don’t know, lost or something. And I wanted to help. Friends help each other.” Sherlock started at “friends” and John rushed on rather than think too hard about that right at that moment. “I thought it would be just a quick little something, but Christ. I’ve never enjoyed just kissing someone quite as much as I enjoyed kissing you just now. I’m not gay, no. Women, still pretty attractive to me. But you’re something else.” John’s eyes narrowed, considering. “Beautiful, alien.” He swallowed heavily. “So, maybe a bit bi.” He laughed. “Or maybe just gay for Sherlock Holmes. I’d certainly not turn down the opportunity to do it again.”

Sherlock watched John, a frown on his face. “You never – Had you thought about this before?”

“Kissing you? No, actually. Probably for the best. Chemistry would have been a damn sight more awkward last year if I’d realized how good this would be.”

Sherlock was silent for a beat. Two. Then, “So you mean that? That you want to kiss me again?”

“Yeah.” It was John’s turn to frown. “You sound surprised.”

“You heard what Seb said?”

John nodded, watching Sherlock’s face carefully.

“That’s – that’s pretty much been what everyone has said. I’m not… good at this.”

John restrained a scoff of disbelief. And suppressed the question of how many might be included in “everyone” since Sherlock’s name had never been linked with anyone other than Seb. Instead, quite casually, he replied, “But you keep trying.”

“If I could just isolate the variables, I could figure out what’s wrong with me.”

“Wrong with you?” John asked, incredulous. John shook his head, “There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. Hell, I’m still half-hard.”

Sherlock’s eyes went wide.

“No, seriously though. I’m being quite serious here – you? That kiss? – Amazing. Perfect. Did you enjoy it?”

Sherlock made a noise of affirmation then rolled his head to stare up at the sky. John did the same. 

“So then,” John said conversationally, “nothing wrong with you at all. Except, maybe, your choice in partners.”

Sherlock’s heart pounded as he sought to catalogue every difference between his kiss with John and every other kiss he’d had. Height had played no factor previously. John was more muscular, which he’d used to good effect. Sherlock was maybe half a head taller, but John was significantly stronger. He smelled nice, but so had Elias over the summer in Provence. So, not scent then. Or maybe scent, but only peripherally. 

Sherlock became aware that John was saying his name. Without opening his eyes, Sherlock said, “Yes, John?”

He could hear the smile in John’s voice. “I was just asking if you’d like to try again. I’d like to kiss you again. This time with your actual permission.”

In lieu of an answer, Sherlock lowered his legs to be flat on the ground. He heard John huff out a laugh and shift. Then there was a solid weight, settling itself on his legs, cool hands stroking across his cheeks. He opened his eyes and met John’s. John was frowning and he felt his own expression shift into a matching, questioning frown. 

John shook his head. “You really are beautiful. I hadn’t noticed.”

Sherlock slid his arms up to anchor John to him then leant forward to nip at John’s lower lip, a slightly incredulous smile on his face. He felt John smile in return and then they were kissing.

If the first time had been a match, this was a firework. Sherlock felt like every nerve ending was alight. When John groaned against his lips, the spark became bright, multicoloured lights behind his eyes. Each nip or slide of tongue on tongue released a new, bright pattern of colour and light behind his eyes and Sherlock felt like he could not possibly draw John close enough.

Eventually John pulled away with a murmured, “Fuck,” tilting his head back to look up at the night sky, sinking his weight further onto Sherlock.

Sherlock frowned up at him, confused. “Not good?”

It was John’s turn to huff out a laugh. “Very good. Jesus. Very fucking good. Where did you learn to kiss like that?” John looked back down at him.

Sherlock stiffened. “I have been told my skill is lacking. You needn’t pretend.”

“Whoever told you that was lying.” John rocked his hips forward hoping to leave Sherlock in no doubt of the effect of his kisses on John. “Or delusional.”

“Or you’re good enough for the two of us,” Sherlock replied, though the argument fell a bit flat because of his own breathlessness.

John leant his head to the side and nipped at Sherlock’s ear before saying, quite clearly in that same ear, “Bullshit.”

Sherlock’s head dropped back as he laughed. John smiled, impossibly pleased to have made Sherlock laugh. He sat back toward his own heels, hovering near Sherlock’s knees. 

“We should probably go back inside,” John said when Sherlock shivered.

Sherlock looked over John’s shoulder to the house where the party was still in full swing. His arrival seemed a lifetime ago. “I think I will just go home, but you should go back.”

John stood and held his hand up to tug Sherlock up after him. “You can, if you want, but you don’t usually come to these, yeah? You should stay for a bit. They can be fun. Plus, you can rub having a good time in Seb’s face. Mike and Linda are around somewhere.” John took another stab at remembering Mike’s crush’s name. Still didn’t sound right, but Sherlock didn’t correct him.

Sherlock hesitated for a moment, then gave a single nod in agreement and followed John back into the house, his hands shoved deep in his own pockets.

Back in the kitchen, John asked if Sherlock wanted a soda or something stronger.

“Soda.”

John smiled. “Not a drinker?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Right. I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.”

Sherlock nodded, his eyes scanning the crowd as John walked away. He recognized most of the people present from school, but didn’t know any of them particularly well. Aside from the obvious who was sleeping with who and whose parents really should keep better tabs on their whereabouts in the evening.

While Sherlock waited, Molly saw him and made her way over. She knew him, slightly, from his brief stint in orchestra before a rather vocal disagreement with the teacher saw him removed from the ensemble. “Hey.”

“Hello.”

“I think we’re getting up a game of Drink While You Think. You should come play.”

“I’m waiting on John.”

“What’s that?” John said from his elbow, hearing his name. He handed Sherlock a can of coke. “Wasn’t sure what you liked. Is that ok?”

Sherlock nodded and took the can and the cup John had brought along.

“We’re going to play a game. I was trying to get Sherlock to come play.”

“I think I’ll,” Sherlock started as John asked, “Which game?”

“Drink While You Think.”

“What is it?” John asked.

“Someone names a celebrity, next person has to name a celebrity whose first name starts with the same first letter as the first letter of the original celebrity’s last name. If they can’t, they take a drink.”

“Coke is ok?” John asked, indicating Sherlock’s drink.

“Yeah, sure,” Molly said. “I’ve got a lemonade.”

“I’m game,” John said. “Sherlock?”

Sherlock nodded and they followed Irene to where a small group had gathered. John was pleased that the group Molly had gathered didn’t question Sherlock’s presence. Five rounds in, the game shifted to some strange hybrid of Never Have I Ever and Truth or Dare, both of which seemed to baffle Sherlock a bit, though he gamely played along. John got up to grab a fresh drink as the game faded into conversation and promised Sherlock he’d return shortly.

He got side-tracked by a debate on the relative merits of Chelsea versus Man U with Greg and when he did return, Sherlock was asleep on the couch.

Seeing John, Molly said, “Sherlock was falling asleep. Evidently Sherlock, once tired, will just fall asleep wherever he happens to be. Mike was afraid he’d fall asleep in someone’s lawn between here and his own house again, so he got him to take the couch.”

“Ah.”

Mike joined the group and asked who was staying. Molly said she was planning to drive Irene and two of the other members of their small group home. “John?” Mike asked.

“Yeah, planning on it.”

“Guest room’s yours then. You lot are the last left this evening.”

“Really? I was just talking to Greg.”

“Yeah, they decided to see if that Chinese place a couple streets over is still open.”

“Huh. Should we try to shift Sherlock?”

“He’ll be dead to the world until morning.”

“Yeah, well. I convinced him to stay. I feel like I should make sure he’s ok.”

“He’ll be fine. He’s slept here before, but do what you need to do.” Mike clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, Lauren’s waiting for me, so I’m going to leave you to it. Lock up, yeah?”

John gave an amused nod and wave to Mike’s retreating back. He saw Molly and the group off, locking the door behind them, and flipped off the last of the lights. It had been, despite the scene with Seb earlier, a remarkably low-key evening for one of Mike’s parties. John threw a blanket over Sherlock and made his way upstairs, hoping he’d catch Sherlock in the morning so he could get his phone number. If not, Mike probably had it.

Or he’d wait and track Sherlock down at school on Monday.

John felt as though he’d only just fallen asleep when the door to the room opened and it took him a moment to place the lanky shadow that made its way toward the bed. He identified it as Sherlock as Sherlock flopped gracelessly onto the bed. John sat up to suggest Sherlock go sleep in Mike’s parents’ room and shook Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock grunted, wiggled closer, wrapped his arms firmly around John’s waist and snuffled contentedly.

It was everything John could do not to laugh. He tried to shift Sherlock so that he could lay back down, but Sherlock just tightened his arms and shifted closer. With a huffed laugh, John resigned himself to sleeping sitting up and let his head drop back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which: a date is made

When John woke the next morning, he realized that he had, in fact, managed to shift while he slept and was mostly lying down, Sherlock still clinging to his waist. John was also painfully aware that he had an insistent morning erection. He grabbed his phone from where he’d left it on the bedside table the night before and sent Mike a quick text letting him know that Sherlock was with him, just in case Mike was looking for the other boy and hoping that the distraction would help him with his … problem. Realising, as soon as he’d sent the text, just how that sounded, he sent a longer text explaining that Sherlock had wandered in in the middle of the night, evidently sound asleep.

Mike replied that Sherlock had, in fact, been known to sleep walk and apologized for not mentioning it to John before. He – Mike – had been distracted.

John rolled his eyes and set his phone back on the table. He let his head drop back and ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair without thinking about it. Sherlock shifted and made a pleased sort of rumble. John chuckled, smiling down at the top of Sherlock’s head, his fingers buried in dark curls. Sherlock looked so relaxed like this.

While he let the curls twine about his fingers, John tried to decide what sort of activity he should invite Sherlock to do. Movie were his go-to, usually, but they made talking difficult and he did actually want to spend more time getting to know the other boy. Concerts, then, would also be out. The problem was, really, that he didn’t know enough about Sherlock to make a good guess at something he might enjoy, aside from chemistry. Maybe a museum?

John could tell when Sherlock started to wake up and removed his fingers from his hair. Sherlock flopped onto his back and opened his eyes.

“John?” he questioned, his voice sleep-rough, confusion writ large on his face as he blinked up.

“Hey,” John grinned down at the sleepy face next to him.

“Am I in Mike’s guest room?” Sherlock asked, frowning and shifting his head to look around the room.

“Yeah. You wandered in last night. You had fallen asleep on the couch.”

Sherlock blushed and seemed to wake up more thoroughly. “Oh. Sorry. I…Any time I’ve stayed over I’ve slept in this room.”

“I was guessing. It’s fine.”

Sherlock sat up. “I hope I didn’t keep you awake.”

“Nope, it was fine.”

Sherlock nodded. “Well. I should, um. Go.” He shifted and swung his legs off the side of the bed.

“Wait,” John reached for his arm. “Can I get your phone number?”

Sherlock half turned. “Why?”

“I’m making a collage of the numbers of everyone I sleep with this year,” John joked.

Or tried to. Sherlock blanched. 

“Sorry! No. It was a joke. A bad one, obviously. I just thought maybe I’d give you a call a bit later – see if you wanted to grab a coffee or see a movie sometime.” John scrubbed a hand through his hair.

Sherlock shifted to look at John. “Why?”

John shook his head. “Why what?”

“Why do you need my number?”

“So I can call you?”

“Why?”

“Because I’d like to actually take you out on a date. And maybe make out some more if it goes well,” John said with a grin. When Sherlock didn’t say anything and John, searching Sherlock’s face, decided he wasn’t going to be able to guess what was going on in Sherlock’s head, he continued, “I can give you some time. I know – I mean I’m guessing your breakup with Seb was recent. So if you need some time, I’ll wait.” 

Sherlock still hadn’t said anything. He seemed to be searching John’s face. John felt himself start to wilt in disappointment, the grin slipping from his face. He wondered at it momentarily then realized that he had been more eager to take Sherlock out than he had been with anyone he’d dated recently. It didn’t seem like Sherlock was interested, though, which was fine. 

“Or not,” John said, removing his hand from Sherlock’s arm. “I mean – I would like your number. I – we could just hang out. It wouldn’t have to be a date thing. We could be friends.” It occurred to John that springing this on Sherlock right after he woke up was maybe not the best possible timing.

Sherlock was trying – he really, really was trying – to make sense of what John was saying. But he just couldn’t. Why would John want to date him of all people? He heard John say something about friends and nodded. That made more sense. John must be offering friendship in exchange for tutoring or something. He’d certainly take the opportunity to spend more time with John, even with nothing in particular on offer. “Right. Yeah, ok. I mean, if you need help on something, you can just ask. I – I’ll help you. You don’t have to – I mean, after last night, I’m happy to help, if you need.” John was looking at him in confusion. After a moment of trying to figure out why, Sherlock gave up. Sometimes he really did feel as stupid as Mycroft insisted he was. “I missed something.” Because there was absolutely no way the boy he’d had a crush on the previous year was suddenly interested in him.

John smiled, although he still looked confused. “I feel like we’re talking at cross-purposes. I don’t need your help with anything. School hasn’t even started yet. I would like to be your friend though. And maybe I can persuade you to more, later. After you’ve got over the whole thing with Seb.”

“Thing with Seb?”

“Yeah. The break-up?”

“Oh. No, that’s fine.” Sherlock frowned. “More later?” John nodded, but Sherlock wasn’t sure he really understood. “More than friends?”

“Yeah. I mean, I was trying to ask you out. I thought that was fairly clear at least.”

“You want to ask me out?”

John swallowed a laugh and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I do.” He rubbed his thumb against his own lips, watching Sherlock. “I know I do.”

“Ok.” Sherlock still frowned, sounding confused.

John grinned anyway. “Ok.”

Sherlock nodded and repeated it.

“Then I need your number,” John said, holding his phone out for Sherlock to type the number in.

Sherlock nodded, added his number to John’s phone and sent a quick text to himself. John turned to grab the sweater he’d been wearing the night before and had taken off before going to bed and by the time he turned around, Sherlock was gone.

John shook his head and took out his phone. Pulling up Sherlock’s message, he texted the other boy.

JW: was going to ask if u wantd to wlk 2gthr.

JW: or if i cld wlk u hm omw

SH: You live in the opposite direction.

JW: mb i’m visiting sum1 else in your nbhd.

SH: Do you know someone else in the neighborhood? Mike and I are the only ones from school who live here.

JW: well no

John took a pause to head downstairs, calling a goodbye to Mike as he made his way out the door. 

JW: Coffee ltr?

SH: I intend to have coffee when I get home.

JW: oh

JW: movie?

SH: No, I was going to work on an experiment. I’ve already watched the movie I had in my queue for this week.

JW: lunch tmrw?

John watched as three dots in a grey bubble appeared, then disappeared, then reappeared.

He called Sherlock.

“Hello?”

“Hi, it’s John.”

“Yes, I know. I just got your number.”

John gave a short laugh, then sighed. “Um, did you not want me to ask you out? Because you could have just said.”

There was a silence on the other end of the line. As John began to check his phone to see if they’d been disconnected, he heard Sherlock say, “Oh. You meant. I thought you were. I don’t know.”

“Just asking what you had going on today?”

“Yeah.”

“Nope. I was trying to see if you wanted to grab coffee – today or whenever, really. I could have waited, but I like to seize opportunities.”

“Um, I’m…my family’s going to Sussex for a few days. We’ll be back Friday.”

“Ok. Maybe dinner and a movie Friday? Or Saturday if you’ll need a day to settle back in.”

There was a bit of a war that raged in John’s head as he stood there. Part of him wanted rather desperately to kiss Sherlock again and wondered if he couldn’t run to catch up. Ask in person. Get a bit of a snog. The rest of him acknowledged that if he wanted this to be more than just physical they should probably take a small step back and talk a bit first. Go on a date. Get to know each other beyond a shared class.

And he was fairly certain he wanted this to be more than just physical. Just as he was fairly sure this wasn’t “a phase” as Harry is likely to describe it when he would eventually tell her, because eventually he will tell her. If she hadn’t already heard by the time he got home. 

As he tried to figure out why he knew this wasn’t a phase – that his interest in Sherlock was every bit as genuine as his interest in Sarah or Jeanette or Emily had been – his phone buzzed with an incoming message. Pulled his phone away from his ear to glance at it and grimaced. Exploring, John? How his sister managed to keep tabs on every bit of gossip was beyond him. He was fairly certain it would serve her well if she decided to pursue law as a career.

“Everything ok?” Sherlock asked. His voice was hesitant and John realized that he’d been quiet for some time.

“Hm? Oh. Yeah. Fine. Just my sister. She,” John paused, waving his phone around though Sherlock couldn’t see that and pressed a button to put the call on speaker so that he could reply to his sister. “She heard about the party. She’ll want to know everything when I get home later.”

Sherlock was quiet for a moment, then said, “I’m sorry to cause trouble.”

“Oh, yeah,” John replied distractedly as he typed out a message telling his sister to, in so many words, piss off. “Wait, what?”

“I’m sorry to have caused you trouble?” Sherlock repeated.

“Sherlock – you didn’t cause me trouble. I’m the one who inserted myself in your conversation. I caused myself trouble, if anything.” John realized Sherlock was still silent and tried to back track a bit, to clarify. “I mean, nothing that happened last night was your fault. And I don’t actually anticipate any trouble.” He smiled, hoping it would translate into his voice as he asked, “So. Friday?”

“I…yes. Friday. Goodbye, John.”

John just laughed to himself when he realized Sherlock had hung up and tucked his phone into his pocket. This was better, really. He’d have a week to do a bit of poking around – not all porn websites, even – and see what he needed to know. He didn’t want to push, but he did want to be thoroughly prepared.

Thursday afternoon John received a text from Sherlock.

SH: Family is staying in Sussex until Monday.

JW: o. tues/weds?

SH: No, tomorrow is fine. I’ll be back on the 11:00 train.

John wasn’t sure exactly what that was meant to convey, so he replied:

JW: gr8. mvie 1st? 

SH: Sure. Just text me the details and I can meet you at the theatre.

JW: k

John debated with himself. His research had been quite fruitful and he’d discovered several things he definitely wanted to explore further with a partner, preferably Sherlock. Possibly with someone else if Sherlock decided he’d rather not. 

But he was running low on lube.

On the one hand, he didn’t want to get over-eager.

On the other, he did want to be prepared. Just in case.

He grabbed his jacket, intending to pop round to the shops. Harry and Clara were at the table in the kitchen and John said a quick hello and goodbye as he headed for the door.

“Oh, John. Wait. I’ve got something for you.”

“I’ll be right back, Harry. Just popping out to do a quick bit of shopping.”

“Yeah, well, go throw these up in your room first, yeah?”

With that, Harry pulled out a small plastic bag from student health and handed it to him.

John took a quick glance inside, flushed to the roots of his hair, and went back to his room with a mumbled “never mind” as Clara and Harry chuckled behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soon, darlings. Soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ** and here is where the story begins to earn its rating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you following along: number of chapters changed. Apparently I was not as close to the end as I thought. That said, it will be finished and posted tomorrow or the next day.
> 
> I'm behind on replying to comments. I promise to catch up once I'm done with this!

John texted Sherlock the next morning that he’d meet Sherlock at his house as it was closer to the theatre and they could decide on a movie together before heading that way. Sherlock texted back his agreement and a suggestion that John arrive around 2.

Quarter after two that afternoon found John knocking at Sherlock’s door. He’d intended to arrive right at 2 only to have that plan thwarted by requests first from his sister then his mother. He’d thought about texting Sherlock that he was on his way, but he had decided to run most of the way and texting while running was a bit beyond him. Besides, they’d said around 2, so it would be fine, right?

Clearly not fine. Or, at least, best to avoid in future. Sherlock’s hair looked like he’d been tugging on it and he looked surprised when he opened the door and found John on the other side.

“Oh.”

“Sorry,” John said immediately. “Um, also, hi.”

“I thought you weren’t coming.”

John frowned, “I would have texted if I couldn’t make it at all.”

Sherlock nodded. “Ok.”

They stared at each other. John broke the silence, “Did you see a movie you wanted to go to or…”

“No, sorry. Come in. I honestly haven’t looked yet.”

They scrolled through movies playing nearby for the next twenty minutes, neither one finding anything to really tempt them.

“We could watch something here?” Sherlock offered. “Or just grab food.”

“Have you had lunch?”

“I ate on the train.”

“How was that?”

“Disappointing, but I’m not hungry at the moment.”

“We could just hang out for a bit. Grab some food later. Or go for a walk?”

Sherlock was quiet for a moment. He looked away and licked his lips. “I want to kiss you.” He turned back to face John.

John swallowed heavily, “Or that.”

“My room?” Sherlock stood.

“Oh, God, yes.”

Sherlock’s smile was somehow both invitingly hot and shyly nervous at the same time and John felt heat pool swiftly between his legs.

He grinned back and let Sherlock tug him deeper into the house, then up the stairs.

Sherlock led the way to his room and closed the door behind them before dropping John’s hand. He crossed to his desk, shifting things around and opening his laptop. He glanced over his shoulder at John and asked, “Music?” but didn’t wait for a response, closing the laptop again and tucking it away.

He turned back to face John. John smiled at him, letting his eyes slowly take in Sherlock’s long, lean form. He felt a flush rise to his cheeks. _Oh, yes. This would work_.

Then he realized Sherlock was gripping the edge of the desk so hard that his knuckles had turned white. John crossed the room to stand in front of Sherlock and ran his hands down Sherlock’s arms reassuringly. He prized Sherlock’s fingers away from the wood, lacing them with his own.

“Hey,” John said softly, smiling up at Sherlock. When Sherlock didn’t reply, John tugged his hand slightly and asked, “Ok?”

Sherlock nodded.

“Changed your mind?”

Sherlock shook his head.

“Nervous?”

Sherlock surged forward and pressed his lips to John. Surprise kept John still for a moment, before he chuckled slightly. Sherlock pulled away, his pale skin flushed rosy pink.

“Well, hello, then.” John pressed a quick kiss to the side of Sherlock’s mouth. He gave Sherlock’s hands a quick squeezed and started to pull away.

Sherlock’s fingers tightened around his.

John looked up at him, raising his eyebrows in question.

“I…” Sherlock started, then stopped, releasing John’s hands.

“You?” John took a step back so that he could see Sherlock a little better.

Sherlock’s shoulders drooped. “Never mind. Thank you for my kiss.” His eyes were focused somewhere near John’s left foot.

“Uh. Sure. Any time, really. Was… that all you wanted?” John let hope that it wasn’t creep into his voice.

Sherlock’s shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t look up. “I wouldn’t want to ask you anything you find distasteful.”

John wanted to scoff, but instead said carefully, “Ok, but I thought I’d made it pretty clear that I’m interested.” John swallowed heavily and decided it was time to be quite upfront about this, really. Sherlock could always kick him out. _Dear God, please don’t let him kick me out_. “I’m interested in anything you’re up for, Sherlock.”

Sherlock looked up and gave him a considering look. “What if I said dating, but no sex?”

That threw John for a bit of a loop, but after a moment’s consideration, he decided he wasn’t actually opposed to that. He wanted to get to know Sherlock, so, “Ok.”

Sherlock looked startled. He narrowed his eyes. “Sex only, no relationship, not really even friendship.”

John tilted his head, frowning at Sherlock. “I…I’d rather not, honestly, but,” John felt like his heart was in his throat, “I guess, if that’s what you wanted. If you just needed someone you were comfortable with, I’d… be willing to try. We’d need to talk, though. Make sure we’re on the same page”

Sherlock’s voice was so soft John almost missed what he said next, “If I want both? Dating and sex.”

At that, John smiled again, his heart rate coming back to normal, “That I am definitely, definitely ok with.”

Sherlock looked up at the ceiling, “Can we start with the sex?” he said in a rush. He looked back at John. “If not, we need to leave my room.”

“Oh, I am definitely in.”

Sherlock scoffed.

“What?”

“You didn’t seem interested,” Sherlock ground out softly, the flush on his cheeks cluing John in that Sherlock was embarrassed, not mad.

“I was just waiting for you,” John said, patiently.

“I have no practical experience in starting these things!” Sherlock said, throwing up his hands before turning back to his desk, reaching for his laptop again.

_Ah_. “Shall I lead the way then?” John said, tugging Sherlock back around.

Sherlock came willingly, so John stepped further into his space, sliding his hands into the back pockets of Sherlock’s trousers. John wanted to get more information from Sherlock on what, exactly, he wanted – sex meant any number of things and it was good to be clear going in. He’d hate to ruin things early on if it could be avoided.

But for the moment, more kissing. John tilted his head up and Sherlock tilted his down obligingly. John moved one hand to cup the back of Sherlock’s head, enjoying the springiness of the curls under his fingers. He sought entrance to Sherlock’s mouth with his tongue and was reminded again of their first kiss and its incredible heat. Sherlock needed only a little encouragement to do his own exploration and John felt Sherlock’s hands come to rest on his hips, fingers grasping and releasing at the hem of John’s shirt.

When John nipped at Sherlock’s bottom lip, Sherlock’s hips stuttered forward and John had a brief moment of clarity when he remembered that he wanted to make sure they were on the same page. He pulled away with a groan and a look of regret.

Sherlock’s eyes remained closed as John brought his hand around to run a thumb over Sherlock’s eyebrow and along his swollen lips. Sherlock opened his eyes.

John felt his heart stutter. _I could fall in love with him_ , John thought and it took every ounce of willpower he had to not dive back in. Drawing in a deep breath, he said, “What’s on – or off – the table?”

“Anything – nothing. John,” Sherlock all but whined John’s name.

John tugged Sherlock toward the bed and pulled Sherlock down to sit next to him. “Oral?”

Sherlock looked down to where John’s trousers tented and licked his lips. “Please.”

“Giving and receiving?”

Sherlock’s hips stuttered slightly, despite their seated position. “Yes.”

“Handjob?”

Sherlock nodded.

“Frottage?”

Sherlock gave John a frustrated look, but nodded.

“Fingering?”

Again, just a quick nod indicated that Sherlock was ok with it.

“Penetration?”

Sherlock swallowed audibly, and nodded again.

“Giving, receiving, or both?”

Sherlock closed his eyes. “John, as far as experience has shown me, where you are concerned nothing is off the table.”

John smiled at that. “We don’t exactly have a lot of experience together.” There was one other thing John wanted to ask about, but he would save that for later. 

Sherlock looked down at his hands then over at John, “That is true. However. When I replace any partner I had previous similar experience with in anything in my mental storage with you, the result is better. Ergo, I may safely assume that any new experience with you will be an experience worth having. Nothing is off the table.” Sherlock paused, then smirked, “And, strangely enough, I think I may have more experience in same sex relations.”

John bumped his shoulder into Sherlock’s, “That you do. Did you really just say ‘ergo’?”

Sherlock decided to head off any further teasing by moving things forward and pulled his shirt over his head before turning to John with a challenge in his eyes. He’d been hoping that John would respond in kind. He was really quite certain he wanted to visually catalogue the muscle and sinew he’d felt in Mike’s back yard. The plan, however, backfired a bit as John seemed to be struck a bit speechless at the sight of him.

It was really too much to hope that John found him attractive, so Sherlock found himself straightening his shirt to put it back on, avoiding John’s eyes. Focused on his task, he missed John moving to stand in front of him again. It was the searing heat of John’s palm pressed to his shoulder as he took the shirt from Sherlock’s hands with his other hand that drew him back to the moment. When he looked up, John swept down to kiss him. Sherlock let himself be swept away for a moment before tugging at the hem of John’s shirt, newly impatient to see the golden skin.

John pulled away, tugging his shirt over his head in a smooth motion that told of well-spent hours in other beds, but Sherlock swiftly pushed that thought aside. John was here now and interested and that was, frankly, wonderful, but also enough. It was enough.

Something in Sherlock’s expression as he finally saw John stopped John from leaning in again immediately. Sherlock found himself dry-mouthed at the sight of defined muscle and golden skin. There was the faintest spray of freckles. Sherlock desperately wanted to kiss each one. Tentatively, he reached out to run his fingertips through the spattering of hair on John’s chest, broadening the press to something more firm as he reached the thicker, darker hair of John’s lower abdomen.

He _wanted_.

He chewed on his bottom look, not looking up. He knew the moment he met John’s eyes, he’d be lost in the sweep of whatever this was and if this ended up being the only opportunity, he wanted to be as thorough as he could.

Good records, after all, were utterly invaluable.

He moved his hands to cup John’s hips, the contrast in texture between the denim of his jeans and his warm flesh was fascinating and Sherlock found himself running his thumb along the waist, reveling in the rough/smooth contrast. Without conscious thought, Sherlock’s hands shifted, moving toward the button on John’s jeans.

He dipped careful fingers below the waist, felt the way the hair grew denser, coarser. John drew in a sharp breath which served to give Sherlock more room to explore. He flicked open the button and pushed the fabric out of the way of his explorations. He licked his lips and leaned in, intent on tasting John’s skin. First at his belly, then lower. He wanted to see if the skin felt warmer on his lips, the way it did to his fingers.

Sherlock pressed a warm, open-mouthed kiss just over John’s left hip and John tangled his fingers in Sherlock’s hair. Sherlock looked up at him through his eyelashes. John’s eyes were lidded, his pupils blown wide.

Sherlock could tell the moment John realized Sherlock had looked up. He brought his other hand up to Sherlock’s face, cradling it between two warm palms, and leaned in to kiss him again. Sherlock felt him shimmy and when they broke apart, John stepped out of his jeans. Sherlock wanted to _look_ , but John stepped in, preventing him from gaining more than a cursory impression without craning his head.

Sherlock’s head tilted back and John gave him a tight smile that seemed to be attempting at once to be reassuring while also being eager or perhaps nervous. Sherlock felt his head tilt and his eyebrows furrow as he tried to parse out what John’s expression meant.

John saw the tightening of Sherlock’s expression, though, and Sherlock watched as John’s face relaxed.

“Budge up,” John said softly. Sherlock moved back on the bed and John gave him a gentle shove so that Sherlock lay flat on his back on the duvet.  “You’re…” John shook his head.

“Too skinny?” Sherlock provided, cursing the slightly breathless tone of his voice as John returned the favor of running careful fingers over skin.

John just shook his head and unbutton Sherlock’s trousers, pulling them off with Sherlock’s pants in one quick motion. Sherlock watched as his pants were shoved to the side before John crowded over him. Sherlock forced himself to stay still as John returned the favour, exploring musculature. He tried not to be overly concerned about the narrowness of his hips and his lack of breasts. John was here and had seemed eager to get his kit off. It would be fine.

Something of his nervousness must have shown in his expression, though, because suddenly John was all but cuddled up next to him. “You ok?” John asked, his hands still running in pleasant circuits along Sherlock’s side.

Sherlock nodded. “Yes, fine,” but the tone was made a little harsh by his own nerves and Sherlock felt his chance slipping by as John’s hand came to a stop. He clenched his jaw and tensed, preparing to move away.

John’s hand, though still, tightened. “Hey, wait. Can we… can we at least talk?”

Sherlock relaxed back. “Fine.”

John withdrew his hand.

Sherlock closed his eyes.

“Do… Do you not want to do this?” John asked.

Sherlock’s eyebrows went up though his eyes remained closed. “Evidently _you_ don’t.”

Sherlock felt John bury his head in Sherlock’s shoulder. “Oh, I very much want to,” John’s voice was muffled in Sherlock’s skin and Sherlock swallowed at the feeling of the warm breath on his neck.

“You stopped,” Sherlock said.

Sherlock felt John’s frown before John moved his head. Sherlock opened his eyes to find John looking down at him. John flushed. “You…um. You’re not aroused any more. I thought. You said the thing about dating without sex. I mean, if you don’t want to do more than this, that’s fine. I can… well, I can’t really ignore this, but I can go take care of this and we can just, you know, be here together.”

Sherlock felt himself flush. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Sherlock felt it was more than fair that John both looked and sounded confused.

“I was distracted,” he said in a rush.

As John parsed out the individual words and their meaning, he gave look an amused, if baffled look. “Distracted?”

“I… yeah.” Sherlock shook his head. “Won’t happen again. Please continue. If you like.” There was a pause in which neither moved. “I’d like. Or I can touch you?”

John shook his head, clearly smothering a smile, and pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s cheek. “Maybe stay with me this time, hm?”

And then John’s hand was cupping his slowly firming cock and Sherlock was nodding earnestly.

Sherlock turned his head, blindly seeking out John’s mouth. Their kisses were sloppy as John stroked Sherlock loosely, his own hips thrusting in an irregular rhythm against Sherlock’s side. Sherlock brought his hands up, half turning onto his side to tug John up and over him. John braced himself with one hand next to Sherlock’s shoulder, leaving his other hand free to continue its explorations.

Satisfied with their arrangement, Sherlock reached out a tentative hand to touch John’s cock, running a curious thumb through the moisture at the tip. In girth they seemed quite similar, but John was slightly longer, the head bigger.

When John pulled back to press a kiss to Sherlock’s neck, Sherlock brought his fingers up to taste. John lifted his head up to see where Sherlock’s hand was going, missing its pressure, and groaned as Sherlock’s tongue flicked out.

“Christ. Did you just?”

Sherlock looked to him. “You’re sweeter.”

It took John a moment. “Sweeter than…” he asked carefully, curious as to who, exactly, he was being compared to.

“Me,” Sherlock said.

“Oh.”

“Who did you…Oh. No. I…wanted to know. Once. So I tested my own.”

John’s smile was teasing, but Sherlock’s hand had returned to its previous activity and the smile fell from John’s face as his hips stuttered forward into that smooth grasp. He attempted to glare as Sherlock smirked.

That smirk was utterly wiped from Sherlock’s face when John shifted his hips forward and moved his hand, entwining his fingers and Sherlock’s and pressing their erections together. They both groaned in pleasure.

Sherlock had, of course, read about this, but…he wasn’t exactly inexperienced in a variety of things, but this… this required an intimacy that he’d been unwilling to find previously. There was no hiding in this. And it was _wonderful_.

John slowed them slightly, pressing a hard kiss to Sherlock’s half-open mouth. “Do you have lube?” he asked, pulling his lips away.

Sherlock nodded and reached under his pillow. He watched as John pulled back slightly and flipped open the cap. He held out his hand when John indicated. John squeezed a strip on Sherlock’s hand, then on his own, before lacing their fingers together again and _oh!_ that was good. That was.

“John!” got out, feeling his orgasm rush forward at the newness of it.

John bent his head, letting it come to rest on Sherlock’s shoulder as he slowed their strokes. “Just…wait. Just a bit,” John ground out.

Sherlock responded by tightening their grip.

“Fine, fine,” John said. “We’ll do this your way.” With that, he encourage the pace back up and the combination of tight, slick heat and quick, smooth movement brought first Sherlock, then John to quick orgasm.

Dimly, despite the rushing of blood in his ears and the white spots in his vision, Sherlock was fascinated by the way John felt in the moment before and during the whole of it. The way his muscles tensed. The change in his breathing, the way his cock swelled and twitched. The way the smell of the air around them changed, becoming heavier. Muskier. He could pick out the notes that were purely John and, in a fit of whimsy, wondered if he could recreate it.

Sherlock lost himself in thought, only to be drawn back by John wiping the mess from Sherlock’s chest before lying next to Sherlock on his back. He reached down and laced their fingers together again. Sherlock turned onto his side and curled into John. John smiled down at him, sated and sleepy, despite the relative earliness of the hour.

They didn’t doze, exactly, but they talked in fits and spurts about what they’d each been up to since the party. When Sherlock found out John had spent part of the week researching, he tried to suppress his curiosity about what John had found and what he thought of it and was it Sherlock he imagined trying whatever it was with.

What he said was, “Oh?”

John, perhaps realizing the variety of things that “oh” was meant to encompass, replied with a smile, “Yes. Some interesting stuff out there. Harry was very encouraging. I think she’s just glad to not be the only queer in our little family. Not that our parents know, yet, but.”

Doing his best to sound interested, but not eager, Sherlock said, “Anything you’re interested in, in particular?”

John shifted around and rolled onto his side, facing Sherlock. He raised his free hand and brushed wayward curls from Sherlock’s forehead, then pressed a kiss there. Pulling back he said, with utter blandness, “Yes.”

Sherlock huffed and rolled onto his back.

John laughed and flopped next to him. “Yeah, actually. Several things I’m at least interested in discussing. I, uh. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, so I was mostly going for practical information rather than fantasizing.”

As Sherlock formulated his first question, his stomach grumbled. He grumbled down at it in return.

John laughed. “Come on, let’s go get some food, yeah? Do you have stuff in or do we need to go out?”

“We probably have some basics. I could manage a risotto or pasta if that would be ok.”

“You can make risotto?” John asked as they climbed out of bed.

Sherlock nodded, dragging a pair of sleep trousers on over his narrow hips and scratching the back of his head. “Yeah.”

“That, please. I had it once in a restaurant when Harry took first in a speech competition. It was amazing. The food, not the speech. The speech was bloody awful.”

Sherlock gave a slightly dubious frown, “I’m not sure mine will stand up to a restaurant dish.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock have dinner. And discuss things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those playing along at home will notice that I've changed the total number of chapters to 6. I could probably shove the rest into one chapter, but I think this makes better sense.

Settled at the table an hour later, Sherlock was startled when John began what he, personally, would think of as negotiations. John would probably think of it like consent or…something.

“Right, so. I was thinking, if it’s alright with you, I’d quite like to give you a blowjob after dinner,” John said as Sherlock took his first bite.

Sherlock spluttered and John took his own first bite, promptly letting out a frankly pornographic moan.

“This is fantastic. Better than I remembered. I watched you and I’m sure I couldn’t duplicate it.”

“It’s not too complicated, though,” Sherlock replied. “Heat liquid, add aromatics to hot oil, partially cook rice, slowly add liquid.”

“Well, it more than lives up to my memory,” John smiled again. They ate in companionable silence for a bit and Sherlock was just beginning to relax again when John said, “So. Is that a no to a blowjob? And if so, is it a no for now or a no for always.”

Sherlock, choking on his rice a second time, took a drink of water and set his glass down a bit more heavily than he meant to do. “Um.”

“If that’s a no, what about, hm. Well, there’s intracrural. Handjobs – but I’d want to do them independently, if that’s ok. Or. I mean, yeah, no. I want to be able to just focus on you for a bit, you know. I love the way you move.”

Sherlock made no response.

“I know you’re quite keen on the penetration front – or at least, I can’t remember if you said you were or if that was just Seb – but if you are, I was thinking maybe not tonight. Maybe, I don’t know. Your family’s not back for a couple days, yeah?”

Sherlock watched John. His mind raced as he realized that John really meant what he’d said – he’d researched options and formed opinions about what he wanted to try and in what order. So softly John almost missed it Sherlock said, “Ok.”

“Ok?”

Sherlock nodded.

“To the blowjob?” John asked carefully.

Sherlock nodded again.

“Great!” John piled the remains of his dish on his fork and shoved it in his mouth before standing and gathering both plates in one smooth motion.

“But,” Sherlock watched as John paused and looked down at him. Sherlock cleared his throat, “But I want to go first. I want. Um. I’d like to do you first.”

“Oh.” John flushed to the roots of his hair, but looked ridiculously pleased and eager as he gave a quick nod.

Sherlock finished his water as he heard the plates clatter onto the counter. He followed John into the kitchen, deposited his glass, and let John tug him back up to his room.

John hadn’t bothered to get fully redressed when he realized that Sherlock wasn’t going to, so once back in his room, Sherlock had only to crowd behind John and drop his hands to the buttons on John’s jeans. He popped them open one by one and leaned down to kiss John’s neck as his hands pushed the denim over John’s hips and down.

As the denim fell, Sherlock moved his lips to John’s jaw and pressed a hard kiss there before encouraging John to turn and sinking to his knees. He’d done this a couple times, generally in an attempt to atone for whatever miscalculation he’d made. He didn’t necessarily enjoy it, but he’d had no complaints.

But he wanted this to be more than acceptable and that made him nervous. He pressed his forehead to John’s hip and took a deep breath. The smell of musk and sex served to settle his nerves, surprisingly, and Sherlock nuzzled into the skin, bringing one hand up to cup and stroke John’s growing erection.

“You have callouses,” John said, hushed and almost reverent.

Sherlock looked up, “I play violin.”

“Oh. You do?”

Sherlock nodded, looking up. “I can play for you some time, if you like.”

John nodded, his eyes half-open, his hips moving in small circles, breathing becoming quicker.

Sherlock smiled and bent his head back to the task. As he brought his tongue out to lap at the now-exposed head, John said, “Wait.”

Sherlock pulled back and looked up.

“Condom?” John said. Then, with a shake of his head, “We should use a condom. Everything says so.”

Sherlock looked back at the flushed, straining erection in front of him then back up at John. “Are you clean?”

“Yes, but that’s not…”

“Please?” Sherlock wondered at the tone of pleading in his voice. He’d given blowjobs before and never without a condom. Had never wanted to. But this was somehow different and he wanted – oh, Lord, he _wanted_. 

John chewed at his lip, then nodded. “If –”

Whatever he was going to say was lost as Sherlock used his hand to bring the tip level with his mouth then sunk his mouth over it in one swift motion. John was hot and velvety and earthy-sweet. Sherlock moaned.

“Fuck,” John’s voice was husky and breathless. He brought one hand to the top of Sherlock’s head and Sherlock felt the fingers clench in his hair then release and move away.

Sherlock looked up and hoped that his expression would adequately convey how very ok he was with John’s hands in his hair. He wasn’t entirely sure why he trusted John so much, but he did and this was what he wanted.

Sherlock liked honey. It was something of an obsession at times, but the variations that could be found in different types of honey from different places were incredible. Some sweeter, others earthier.

John? John was a perfect combination of musk and the faintest hint of something like earl grey – tannic-bitter-sweet. Perfect.

Sherlock forced his attention back to the actual task, drawing his tongue along the vein at the underside, increasing the suction as he reached the tip. He brought his other hand up, cupping John’s bollocks before wetting one finger of that hand with the excess spit in his mouth and sliding it behind.

When he brushed against John’s perineum, John gave a hoarse, “Christ.” Sherlock started to withdraw his hand, thinking he’d misunderstood earlier, only to return it as John begged, “Again.”

Sherlock found a rhythm, stroking one hand over the bit that he couldn’t fit well into his mouth, sliding his lips along the hard flesh, and brushing calloused fingers against John’s prostate from the outside.

Somewhere between figuring out the right order and the right pressure, it ceased to feel like an experiment to record the results of and more like something to experience and think about later. He savoured every change, the way John’s fingers would tighten and release, the way he’d hold his breath when Sherlock withdrew only to gasp as Sherlock sank back down.

“I’m. Sherlock, I’m.”

Sherlock could tell – _he could tell_ – he could feel John thickening, could feel the tightening just behind the base of John’s cock that signaled climax. He looked up and was surprised to find John’s eyes on him. Maintaining eye contact, he sank his mouth as far down as he could manage, until the tip was just in the entrance to his throat, cupped his hands around John’s hips, and swallowed.

“Fuck!” John shouted, and Sherlock felt the climax a second before warm, salty liquid filled his mouth. He swallowed, dimly aware that John continued to say, on endless, barely more than whispered, loop, “Fuck.”

When John was done, Sherlock slowly, carefully released him from his mouth. John sank to his knees, pulling Sherlock’s face to his own. Sherlock hesitated slightly, unsure that John would really want to taste himself, but the eagerness with which John kissed him told him that John knew exactly what he was doing.

And that he enjoyed it.

Sherlock groaned.

John pulled away and smiled. “You are incredible.”

Sherlock didn’t quite manage to suppress the eager pump of his own hips. John ran a hand down Sherlock’s chest, delving without hesitation under the waistband of the pyjamas Sherlock had put on.

John stroked him carefully, gently. “Can you sit on the bed?” he asked, withdrawing his hand.

Sherlock nodded and scrambled to comply, nearly tripping over his own feet in his eagerness. He flopped to the bed with no attempt at grace. John had stood again, stepping out of his jeans. Sherlock watched as John stalked toward him and swallowed heavily, his mouth suddenly dry.

John’s smile was on the dirty side of pleased. John leaned over to kiss Sherlock and Sherlock let his eyes drift closed. When John pushed lightly at his shoulder, he let himself flop back onto his bed.

“Good,” John purred, leaning over Sherlock to trail kisses down his neck before flicking his tongue over Sherlock’s right nipple and gently pinching the left.

Sherlock craned his neck, trying to watch as John touched and kissed his way down Sherlock’s torso. Tried not to compare it to anyone else he’d ever been partially naked with. Tried not to notice that John touched him like there was nothing in the world he’d rather be doing.

When John reached his waistband, he gave a small tug, so Sherlock lifted his hips and tried not to feel awkward at being completely naked and sprawled out on his bed. John was naked, too, but not on the bed as he had been before. Not covering Sherlock’s body with his own. John’s continued, reverent touch chased away the idea, and Sherlock felt himself relax into his duvet, swept along in the wave of touch-taste-feel.

John pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Sherlock’s hip and hoped that his nervousness wasn’t showing too badly. Tried not to think about the frankly amazing blowjob he’d just received. It wasn’t that it was a competition, but he wanted it to be good – and it was his first to give, after all.

But, Christ, Sherlock was responsive. Every touch drew undulation or sound. John was really quite certain he could spend a week with Sherlock naked and laid out before him and touch nothing below his waist and gain a world of knowledge.

John nuzzled the crease between Sherlock’s thigh and hip and reached his hand up to run it along Sherlock’s delightfully flushed cock. He rubbed his thumb over the head and smiled into Sherlock’s skin as he bucked up into the pressure. Fascinated by the difference in texture, he lipped at the skin then drew his tongue up the length. With his thumbs, he traced the arc of Sherlock’s hip bones as he drew the head into his mouth.

He’d enjoyed going down on girlfriends in the past. There was something satisfying about pleasing a lover with no particular thought to your own satisfaction. This, though? This was incredible. He could feel every twitch, every aborted movement, and knew what it meant in that instinctive way one knows one’s own body.

He remembered the feeling of Sherlock gently stroking his balls, so he pulled off and nuzzled his way there, drawing them into his mouth. Sherlock’s gasp was harsh and followed swiftly by a heartfelt groan. Moving off, he returned to the crown, and, drawing on experiences he’d particularly enjoyed, he alternated quick licks and longer suction and considered every sound or aborted movement from Sherlock an achievement.

There were other things he wanted to try, eventually, but this was an act of worship of the boy under him. He fondled and sucked and stroked and when he felt Sherlock’s balls begin to draw up tight to his body, he found he had a decision to make. He debated swallowing briefly, but ultimately pulled off. Later he wanted to try that, too, and had read suggestions to improve his effectiveness – reduce the risk of spluttering all over his partner – but he wanted to be able to see Sherlock’s face and couldn’t from his current vantage.

So he pulled away, replacing his mouth with his hand and pressing kisses to Sherlock’s abdomen and throat as he worked his way back up. Sherlock lunged forward, pressing a slopping kiss near John’s mouth only to fall back with a moan as he came, painting John’s fist and his own chest.

As Sherlock panted, John grabbed some tissues from the table next to the bed and tidied up then stood and took them to the small trash can under Sherlock’s desk before returning and laying down next to Sherlock.

Sherlock turned his head and gave John what he was fairly certain was a dopey smile, but he couldn’t bring himself to really care. If feeling like this was what being with John Watson was like, he’d do everything in his power to make sure he never had to be without John again.

That thought sobered him slightly, despite his post-orgasm haze. It was early days yet for that sort of thought, however true it might seem. Somehow it mattered less when John slid an arm under Sherlock’s shoulders and pulled him in to rest his head on John’s shoulder. Sherlock let his eyes slide closed as John tangled his fingers in Sherlock’s curls.

Sherlock hummed contentedly and felt John kiss his forehead.

They dozed, waking periodically throughout the next several hours to touch and kiss, falling into a deep sleep in the early morning hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you notice I have missed tags or have some glaring error, please (pretty please) let me know. You can do it in the comments or find me on tumblr (awkwardtiming) or email me (awkwardtiming@gmail.com). Please (again) and thank you.
> 
> And thank you again for reading! Hope you have a lovely day!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you know what happens.

Sherlock woke first the next morning. He was sprawled half on top of John. He had a moment of concern – certainly Seb hadn’t enjoyed Sherlock’s tendency to become an octopus while he slept – but relaxed when he realized that, though he was the one sprawled, John’s arm was firmly around his shoulder holding Sherlock to his chest. John’s head was tucked down as well, resting on the top of Sherlock’s and their legs were entwined.

With a smile, he let himself relax back against John’s chest. He didn’t want to wake John up, but he couldn’t resist the urge so slowly, gently stroke the skin under his fingertips. And, after a bit, to press a kiss to the skin under his mouth. To shift just a little bit closer.

He felt John smile and looked up.

John’s eyes were still closed, “I’m still sleeping,” he whispered, smile flirting at the corners of his mouth.

“I could wake you up,” Sherlock said, moving his head to rest his chin on John’s chest so he could see John’s face better.

“Oh?”

Sherlock hummed. “I could,” he shifted one hand lower, giving one perfectly pressured stroke to John’s morning erection. “Or I could get up and take a quick shower. Wake myself up properly.” He tucked his head down again and said, softer, “Open myself up properly.”

He lifted his eyes to John’s face in time to see John’s eyes snap open. He looked startled for a moment, but then his expression softened. “Now?”

Sherlock chewed on his bottom lip, then nodded.

John hesitated a moment, then nodded in return. “Let’s both have a shower then. And maybe some breakfast. I’ve got a couple things I want to run past you.” He grinned, “And I definitely want be the one to open you up, yeah?”

Sherlock returned his smile.

Whatever Sherlock might have thought John wanted to discuss, condoms or different lube or waiting, he was dead wrong.

He was never quite this wrong.

They had discussed whether Sherlock was curious about penetrating or being penetrated (both, but primarily the later), too, of course. However.

Oh, he knew what John was talking about, but it wasn’t. He didn’t think. He.

“Um. We don’t have to,” John was saying. “I mean, I just thought. It sounded.” John was blushing fiercely. “I didn’t mention it yesterday, but. I just thought. Um. I mean.”

“You want to,” Sherlock asked, sitting on his bed, not quite looking at John, “you want to, with your tongue.”

“Well, I mean, to get you properly ready, it’ll be fingers, too. But yeah.” His voice softened. “Yeah, I do. If you’re up for letting me.”

Sherlock swallowed and nodded. “Yes. Please.”

John’s grin was infectious and eager and Sherlock found himself smiling back, then huffing out a laugh.

“What?” John asked.

“For someone who was straight, you’re very…open to trying things.”

John shrugged, “I like sex. I really like sex with you. You happen to be male. It’s all fine, yeah?”

Sherlock nodded, “All fine.”

They grinned at each other for a moment, all nervous eagerness. “So,” John started. “What I’ve read said it’s easier if you’re on your stomach, while I’m…you know…’sfor the best, but when we get to the, uh, penetration bit, I’d like to see you. If that’s ok. I understand it’s less comfortable, though, so,”

Sherlock leaned over and kiss him. “Yes. Perfect.”

John smiled. “Great. Let me grab a couple things – lube, etc – just um… get comfortable. Pillow under your hips maybe? I could grab a towel to cover it.”

Sherlock nodded, but left the bed to grab the towel himself while John rooted around in the bag he’d brought with him. As Sherlock settled himself over the pillows, his head propped on his arms, John opened the dental dam and one of the flavoured lubes his sister had thoughtfully acquired.

He really wanted to do without the dam, honestly, despite his preference for safe sex overall, but he’d read too much about the risks of anything anal to forego protection. So. Dam.

Nevertheless, he let himself relax Sherlock and himself a bit before really starting. He shucked off his pants and shirt and, climbing onto the bed, pressed kisses along Sherlock’s spine. He lets himself notice the way the skin feels and tastes different. He nips gently at the swell of Sherlock’s arse and smiles at the way it makes him jerk.

He’d done enough research to know that, freshly showered, at the very outer edges, it was relatively safe to press a kiss. To press his tongue to the puckered skin and feel the way it relaxed in the face of repeated undulation.

Reluctantly, he drew away and put the dam in place, then went back to his task. If he’d thought Sherlock responsive before, it was nothing to this. Under the constant attention, Sherlock moan and squirmed and all but melted under John’s attentions. John wanted to keep going, but he also desperately wanted to see Sherlock’s face, so he pulled away, watching as Sherlock’s hips continued to twitch and squirm until Sherlock settled, boneless and breathing hard.

John bit his lower lip, leaning over to tug and shift until Sherlock was on his back. Sherlock’s eyes opened slowly and John smiled down at him, then pressed a kiss to his lips while smearing the fingers of his left hand with lube.

Their kisses were lazy as John shoved the pillows to one side so that he could lay closer to Sherlock. Sherlock spread his legs obligingly and moaned into John’s mouth as John pressed in his first finger.

His previous activities had done what they were meant to do, and John felt comfortable pressing a second in after only a few strokes. Sherlock’s head rolled back against his pillow and away from John’s mouth. John smiled against Sherlock’s neck, pressing a kiss there instead before shifting to watch the way his fingers disappeared and reappeared from Sherlock’s body. It was, frankly, gorgeous.

Sherlock began to squirm again. John focused on scissoring his fingers apart, opening Sherlock up further. Sometime he wanted to focus on finding Sherlock’s prostate. On bringing him to orgasm that way. He wanted to know what it took. How Sherlock looked.

Some part of John’s mind was slightly alarmed at how quickly “boy I know from a class” had become “boy I want to know everything about.” Alarmed, but unwilling to pull back from what had been, to this point, amazing.

When he was easily thrusting three fingers slowly in and out, John leaned up and over to kiss Sherlock again. He pulled away and moved to between Sherlock’s legs, grabbing the condom he’d set on the bed earlier and rolling it on, then smearing his own erection with lube. He looked up at Sherlock who was watching John.

“Ok?” John asked, lining himself up.

Sherlock nodded. John tried to get his hands to stop shaking. Taking a deep breath he pressed forward. As his head breached the ring of muscle, he moved both hands to Sherlock’s hips, steadying them in the hollows there. As he sunk in, Sherlock groaned.

John made a choked sound, “Oh, Sherlock.”

Sherlock drew his legs up closer to his chest, giving John more room to move closer. Sherlock had done this before with a toy he’d purchased, but the feeling of John – of real, warm flesh that was firm but soft, that pulsed. This was indescribably wonderful. Sherlock reached out and set one hand on John’s arm. John pulled out slightly and shifted and when he thrust back in, Sherlock felt like he’d been lit from the inside.

John found a rhythm, slow, steady and Sherlock was sure that no one had ever been as focused on him as John seemed in that moment. Sherlock felt himself all but melt into it, tightening his hand on John’s arm and reaching for John’s neck with his other arm, curling up to be closer.  John obliged, leaning down, pressing sloppy kisses to Sherlock’s mouth, neck, chest. Anything he could reach.

As Sherlock figured out how to shift and tighten, John began to lose his rhythm. When John brought a hand to Sherlock’s erection and ran his thumb across the head, Sherlock’s back arched off the mattress and he was coming. Sherlock felt like he was floating or flying.

When he opened his eyes, coming down and back to himself, John was still watching him. His eyes were soft and Sherlock swallowed heavily. He shifted and realized John was still hard. Sherlock attempted a smile and suspected he wasn’t entirely successful, but John – brilliant, wonderful John – understood and began to move again, quickly. Sherlock was sensitive and it felt, well, not as good, but watching John made it worth it.

He could feel the way John’s muscles tightened, could feel the pulse as John came and wondered if, later, John would be willing to do this again.

John’s arms gave out and he collapsed on top of Sherlock. Sherlock reached up to wrap his arms around John, holding him close. He tucked his head against the top of John’s head, lowering his legs a bit. Sherlock closed his eyes tightly, trying to suppress the tears he could feel gathering. His heart was pounding and he could feel John’s heart pounding and he wanted this to stretch on forever.

In that moment, he was glad that things had ended when they had with Seb. That they’d ended how they had. That John was there and.

John moved his head and looked up at Sherlock and Sherlock realized the tears he’d been trying to suppress were sliding down his cheeks. He opened his eyes and met John’s concerned gaze.

“Ok?” John asked softly.

Sherlock just nodded and strained up to kiss John. John smiled into the kiss, then shifted, carefully withdrawing, then removing the condom and tying it off. He dropped it over the side of the bed and curled up next to Sherlock, who turned and curled around John. John used his thumb to brush the lingering tears from the corners of Sherlock’s eyes and smiled at him, soft and encouraging. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s forehead and Sherlock let his eyes drift closed.

John felt the words clamoring to get out and swallowed them down, closing his own eyes and drifting off. There would be time.

When he woke later, Sherlock was gone. John stretched, then got up, tugging on his jeans and t-shirt. The condom had been disposed of, the towel removed. Apparently he’d been more tired than he realized.

He went to the bathroom, then headed in search of Sherlock. Who he found, standing in the middle of the kitchen, looking baffled and playing a soft sort of melody that John didn’t recognize.

“Hey.”

“Oh.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Everything ok.”

“Yeah. I…thought you would be hungry and I was trying to think of something for lunch, but…” He lifted his hands, holding the violin and bow, in a helpless sort of gesture.

John smiled. “Why don’t we go out?” When Sherlock didn’t reply, John suggested, “Bring back some take away? Maybe watch a movie? Make out on your sofa?”

The smile Sherlock gave him made his heart jump, just a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter after this friends!


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock and John were curled up on opposite ends of the sofa, their feet tangled together, reading. John had found some old medical journals and Sherlock had pulled up an article on molecular structure on his phone. John lowered the journal to his lap as he finished the article and stared at Sherlock. Sherlock heard the rustle and fought the urge to look up until John poked him with his toes.

Sherlock lowered his phone and John just smiled at him. 

Sherlock cleared his throat. “Yes?”

“Later, I was thinking maybe you could, uh.” John stopped and cleared his own throat. “You could.”

“Yes?”

“Do me. I’d like you to, um.”

Sherlock felt himself flush red. “Oh.” 

“Unless you’re not interested.”

Sherlock swallowed. “Um.” He searched John’s face. John was blushing, looking a little embarrassed. “You want that? Really?”

John licked his lips, his gaze flicking over Sherlock’s face and form. “Oh, yes.”

Sherlock’s eyes flicked toward the doorway. “Now?”

John gave a short laugh, “Or later. Just hoping it could be on the table.” 

Sherlock nodded and returned to his phone. He saw John return to the article. Sherlock stretched his legs out, tucking his toes under John’s thigh. John just smiled. Once Sherlock was sure that John was entrenched in his article, he started to search for information on making penetration enjoyable for one’s partner.

He’d never really thought that would be a…thing. At least, not at this stage.

As he read various things, he relaxed. He could do this. And John would tell him if there was something he didn’t like. But he wanted John to enjoy it.

He wondered if John liked baths. There was a large tub in his parent’s bathroom. They could take a bath together first. John would be relaxed, then.

John poked Sherlock with his toes again. “Relax.”

“I am relaxed,” Sherlock said, but his voice was too high and his throat felt tight.

“Sherlock, we don’t have to. To any of it.”

“We could take a bath,” Sherlock rushed to say.

John smiled at him and Sherlock felt his lips twitch up in response. “We can, if you want,” John replied. “Or we can just go to bed.”

Sherlock stared at him for a moment. John closed his journal and set it on the top of the stack. Sherlock nodded and pulled his feet in. 

He followed John upstairs. John stripped down to his pants, so Sherlock did the same. John crawled into bed and Sherlock followed. John turned onto his side, facing away from Sherlock, then reached a hand back to tug Sherlock in close behind him and hummed contentedly when Sherlock curled in, spooning John.

Sherlock let the solid heat in front of him calm his nerves. He could smell his shampoo on John, but under that was a scent he was starting to recognize as being uniquely John’s. John was stroking Sherlock’s forearm and hand. Sherlock leaned his head down, burying his nose at the base of John’s skull. John entwined their fingers. 

They lay there, each lost in thought and Sherlock began to realise that, between the earliness of the hour and the nap they had taken that morning, he wasn’t really tired. As he let his mind go back over what he’d read, his fingers began to stroke their way along the muscle of John’s abdomen. 

This likely would have gone on some time, except John moaned and Sherlock realized that John was aroused, his erection brushing the back of Sherlock’s hand on the down stroke. His intent had not been to move things in this direction, but he found he was glad for it. His parents would be back in two days and life would return to normal, but for right now and in this moment, this was ok. It was good.

“John,” he said softly, coming to a conclusion that he hoped would be the right one.

“Hm?”

“Did you want to…”

John answered by grinding his hips back into Sherlock and Sherlock bit off an oath. 

“Alright.” Sherlock moved back and John rolled to lay flat, looking up at Sherlock. Sherlock took one look at his face, then reached behind him, grasping for the lube and a condom. When he had them in hand, John reached up and framed Sherlock’s kiss, drawing him down and into a kiss.

And then after.

After Sherlock had carefully opened John up, watching his face, making sure to go slowly and use plenty of lube.

After he understood the expression of amazement on John’s face earlier that day.

After he’d watched John fall apart under him. 

After he’d come apart and was brought back to himself by John stroking his hair where he lay collapsed against John’s chest.

After they’d taken another shower, together, touching with no motive beyond being close.

John pulled Sherlock in to curl behind him and Sherlock clung to him, the way he’d clung to a stuffed toy he’d been allowed to keep far longer than was prudent. 

“Sherlock?” John’s voice broke the silence.

“Yes, John.”

“I love you.”

Sherlock’s brain went still, silent for a moment, then began firing, searching for a reason. “Because of the sex?” This was very new and anything else was really too much to be believed.

Sherlock felt John laugh and willed himself, unsuccessfully, not to stiffen. “No, you berk,” John said, shifting to turn in Sherlock’s arms. He framed Sherlock’s face with his hands. “The sex is lovely, but you’re a bit amazing. Fantastic. And it’s early days, I know. But I do. I love you.” John pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then turned in his arms again, tugging on Sherlock until he was snug against John’s back again.

“John,” Sherlock said, as they settled.

“Hm?” John said, already drifting off. 

“I…you’re an idiot.”

John laughed softly, because yeah, alright. He could think of a number of reasons that might be true. “Ok.”

A while later, when John was nearly asleep, he heard Sherlock’s voice, barely more than a whisper from where he’d tucked his head down against John’s neck, “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it.
> 
> Thank you, again, for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I try to catch tags and inevitably miss some. Feel free to let me know what else I need to add.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading. Hope you enjoy!


End file.
